I love knowing no matter how old I grow…no matter how many days I rise…there is still a child inside me…a child who never dies.
A child I feel blessed never to be without…and some mornings on my walk…I like to let that child out.
Although he walks the same route I walk it should come as no surprise…I see the world quite differently…when I look through my child’s eyes.
I find I walk a little slower…sometimes I zigzag across the street…I tend to touch more clouds and count more stars when I walk with my child’s feet.
Instead of passing by and nodding at the mockingbird as she sings her morning song…the child in me stops to listen and, with her permission, sing along.
The child in me stops to talk to rabbits…sends messages on the breeze…dances in the moonlight and plays with shadows in the trees.
The adult in me enjoys my walk at the beginning of every day…but he tends to walk more for exercise…while my child tends to play.
Which means I walk a little slower enjoying more of the world that surrounds me…constantly attracted to all the sights and sounds and goings on around me.
When I let him out…I’m always glad I did…and no longer do I find it shocking…how wonderfully different my morning becomes..when I let my child do the walking.
And it never fails when I turn for home and my child’s walk comes to and end…I find myself hoping….tomorrow…I’ll let him out again.
No comments:
Post a Comment